Healing Hands
by dS-Tiff
Summary: Toby comes home to find Happy cooking dinner and he immediately knows something is wrong. Light angst, a little H/C. Quintis, of course!


_**This is set just during Season 4, just after Thanksgiving. I hope you all enjoy reading these little Quintis scenes as much as I love writing them. All comments welcome, thank you kindly.**_

HEALING HANDS

"Right, that's one child genius returned to the loving arms of his mother." Ralph had been half asleep by the time Toby had handed him back to Paige. He just hoped the boy didn't go into too much detail about what they'd been up to that afternoon, or Paige would never let him babysit again. At least he'd managed to get all the gloop out of Ralph's hair.

Toby stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He stopped for a moment to take in the surroundings of his home. Their home, his and Happy's. He hoped he would never get over the wonderful feeling of contentment he got every time he came home. Home to the woman of his dreams. Home to his wife. His wife who was… cooking? Well, that's a new one, he thought to himself.

Toby stuck his head into the kitchen, convinced his sense of smell was tricking him, but it wasn't. Happy had an array of vegetables lined up in front of her and there was something bubbling on the stove and something else in the oven. "What's for dinner?" he asked, deciding not to make a big thing of this new turn of events. Something didn't feel right, he hoped he was wrong.

"Stay out of the kitchen!" Happy yelled.

Toby knew better than to disobey Happy when she used that particular tone of voice, so he slipped off his shoes and made himself comfortable on the sofa. Happy never cooked, so something was inspiring her this evening, but Toby hadn't had chance to make sense of it yet. "Ralph said to thank you again for the loan of the precision screwdrivers," he said, making casual conversation to see if he could pick anything up from her response.

"OK. Now shut up, I'm concentrating," came the reply.

Toby switched on the TV and found a gameshow. Happy hated him watching gameshows because he always took great delight in shouting out all the answers and it drove her to distraction. Tonight was no exception, apparently. "Tetrafluoroethane!" He answered the first question. Then, "Nineteen seventy two!"

Happy stuck her head around the corner. "Are you watching a stupid gameshow?"

"No… maybe… yes." Toby replied, feeling suddenly guilty. He grabbed the remote and turned off the TV. "Is everything OK?" he added cautiously. Happy had already retreated to the kitchen and it was obvious to Toby that she was deliberately keeping out of his way.

The sound of a pan clattering to the floor startled Toby. "Honeybunch?" he called out.

Another crashing sound and then. "I'm good."

"If you say so," muttered Toby to himself. "Do you need any help out there?" he called again.

"No."

Toby sighed. She'd talk to him when she was ready, he realised, or when he had the opportunity to ease it out of her, whichever came first. He settled back on the sofa and picked up his tablet to check his emails, but before he even had chance to switch it on there was another crash, then a thud followed by the sound of Happy cursing at the top of her voice.

Toby leapt to his feet and ran out to the kitchen to see what was going on.

"I'm fine, go away," snapped Happy as he appeared at the doorway. She was struggling with a tea towel, desperately trying to wrap it around her right hand with her left. There was an upturned saucepan on the floor with the contents splashed against the oven door and the space where Happy stood was covered in sliced onions.

Toby let out a quiet sigh. "You're not fine, let me see." He crossed to where she was standing and gently took her by the elbow. She made a half-hearted attempt to snatch it away from him, but Toby could see that she'd already resigned herself to allowing him to help her.

Toby slowly unwrapped one corner of the towel from her hand. As he lifted it he could see blood had started to soak into it. "Oooh," he said, narrowing his eyes to peer closely at the wound.

"You know it's not good when the doctor says 'Oooh'," Happy said, trying to make light of the situation, but she had just started to feel a little dizzy. "It's nothing, the knife slipped, that's all."

The slight change to her voice pattern took Toby's attention away from her hand for a second. "You look pale," he said, with concern.

"You know I'm not good with blood," replied Happy, her voice noticeably shaky now. "Especially my own, apparently."

"OK, let's go sit down before you fall down," replied Toby, wrapping her hand tightly in the towel and raising it in the air to slow the blood flow. "I need to get a proper look at this."

He walked her slowly to the sofa and she sat down, keeping her hand slightly raised. "I'm not going to the ER," she said with determination as Toby went to get his medical bag.

"That depends on how deeply you decided to plunge that knife into your palm," replied Toby. He switched on the reading lamp which stood next to the sofa and angled the light before sitting down next to her and resting her injured hand in his lap. "Don't look at this," he ordered. "Just look at me."

"I think I'd rather look at the blood," sneered Happy.

"Hey!" exclaimed Toby, but he didn't really mind, he knew she was just being even snarkier than usual because she was in pain. He took a pair of sterile gloves from his bag and put them on before unwrapping the towel and examining the injury. "Looks like your fingers are all intact," he said. "One, two, three, four, five, six… yep, all present and correct."

"You're hilarious," remarked Happy, sarcastically.

"While I'm doing this, do you want to tell me why you were in the kitchen giving Gordon Ramsay a run for his money?" asked Toby. "Because this is not normal behaviour for you."

"Can't a wife cook dinner for her husband?" asked Happy. "Ow!" she added as Toby probed the palm of her hand with a gloved finger.

"Sorry, sugarplum," he replied. "I just need to make sure there's no nerve damage. Good news is I think you'll be picking locks and tightening nuts again in no time."

"Do you really want me to react to that 'tightening nuts' comment?" asked Happy, raising her eyebrows.

Toby stopped working for a second and grinned madly at her before kissing her tenderly on the lips. "And that is why I love you," he said before returning his attention to her injured hand.

"Does it need stitches?" asked Happy, gingerly. "Coz I'm not gonna sit around in the ER waiting for some teenager barely out of med school to stick needles into me when I'm married to a genius doctor. Understood?"

Toby smiled. "As much as I appreciate your endorsement of my suturing skills, my sweet, I think a little glue and some Steri-Strips will do just fine."

Happy breathed a sigh of relief and slumped back against the cushions. "When you're done we'll order take-out," she said. "I think my cooking days are over. I'm sorry."

Toby was taken aback by her apology. He didn't question it, though, because he could tell that she wanted to apologise for something, but he knew it wasn't her cookery skills. "So, are you ready to tell me why you turned into a nineteen fifties housewife?" he asked calmly. "I mean, if you'd gone all out and put on a polka dot swing dress and a flowery apron I'd be all over the idea…"

"Perv," Happy interrupted him.

Toby shrugged and winked at her, unable to deny her accusation. He left her to think about his previous question for a moment while he cleaned the last of the blood from her hand. The bleeding had stopped now and he was able to see the extent of the damage. She had really gone in deep with the knife, she must have been attacking those onions with a lot of force, he realised.

"I needed to think," said Happy eventually. She looked at her husband with sad eyes and Toby could see the conflict that lay behind them. "And seeing as how you made me take most of my tools to the garage so you could store all your crap in the spare room…"

"You mean my collections," Toby corrected her as he unwrapped a clean piece of gauze.

"Collections of crap," noted Happy. "Anyway, when I need to think I like to do something with my hands, as you know, so I figured I'd make you that Italian chicken bake we had at Kovelsky's a couple months back, 'coz you liked it so much. Ow!"

"I'm sorry, darlin'," said Toby, kissing the side of her head. "I've just got to close this wound, do you want something for the pain?"

"No, I'm fine," snapped Happy, who was clearly anything but fine. "You'd better make a good job of this, Doc. I don't want an ugly scar."

"No scar, I promise," replied Toby. "Now, just hold still for me. So, um, you were going to tell me what you were thinking about in the kitchen."

Happy sighed. Her hand was throbbing now and she couldn't decide what was worse - the fact she'd cut herself, that she hadn't been able to cook a proper meal, or that she still had a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts flying around in her head. "OK," she said. "OK, but I want you to hear me out."

Toby nodded slowly and started applying the Steri-Strips. He had an idea he knew what this might be about, but he wanted to allow Happy to express herself. It was difficult for him to go into full 'professional shrink' mode when his patient was the woman he loved more than anything else in the world, but if that's what she needed then that's what he would do.

"I think we should…" Happy began. "I've been thinking… I wanted to…" She stopped and let out a frustrated sigh.

"Take your time," urged Toby. "Just breathe," he ordered. He hated to see her hurting so much. He could fix her hand, that was easy, but whatever was going on inside her head would be harder to fix.

Happy nodded and drew a deep breath. She closed her eyes, emptied her lungs and drew another breath before finally speaking. "I think we should stop trying to get pregnant."

Toby was stunned. He hadn't quite been expecting her to say that. "OK," he replied, slowly. "But I'm confused, I'm reading a whole load of maternal markers from you."

"Shut up and let me finish!" Happy snapped. "I think we should stop trying, because… because I want to adopt."

Toby nodded slowly. Now it was starting to make a little more sense to him, but he was still reading a huge amount of internal conflict from his wife. "Are you sure that's what you want?" he asked as he stuck one edge of a large white dressing to the palm of her hand with surgical tape.

"Yes," insisted Happy. "Look, I know I said I wanted a family and I still do, but there are kids out there already who need families. I was one of those kids, Toby, I know how it feels. We don't need to bring another life into the world."

Toby peeled off his gloves and moved Happy's injured hand gently from his lap to her own. "I love you," he said. "And I want us to be parents so if you want to adopt a child, if you really want to, then I'm all over that."

"Thank you," she whispered.

He pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head. "But," he began. "But I want you to think about it some more. I want you to be sure. It's a huge step."

"I've already thought about it," she replied. "When I was in the group home, the one thing that gave me hope was the idea that one day these perfect parents were going to waltz in and take me home. They were going to give me everything I ever wanted, a home, maybe a dog… love. You've got to understand, it was the one thing that kept us all going in there."

"I do understand," replied Toby. "I hate that you had such an unhappy time and I know you have so much love to give a child. We can adopt, of course we can. We have so much to offer, but it's not an easy process. I just want you to be prepared."

"I know how the system works, I've lived it, dummy," retorted Happy, pulling away from his arms. "But we're geniuses, we can work the system. We can help a kid who needs a home. If I can stop just one kid from going through what I had to go through…" her voice hitched and she couldn't speak any more.

"Sshhh," Toby soothed, stroking her hair. "I get it and I'm with you, I promise. But, I want you to think about something. I want you to think about… about your Mom."

"My Mom's dead, Toby," replied Happy, bluntly. "I never knew her. My dad showed me a couple old photos and that dumb video, that's all I have."

Toby sighed. He wished she would allow herself to grieve for her mother properly. He knew it would help her come to terms, at least a little, with never having the chance to know her, but he knew now was not the time to push her on that subject. There was something she needed to face, though and he could tell she'd already thought about it.

"But that's not all you have, is it," he said. "You have YOU. You know that a part of her lives on inside you and a part of her will live on inside our baby. I saw it the first time you told me you wanted to start a family."

Happy looked at him with sad eyes. "It's just genetics, Toby," she replied. "It means nothing."

"You don't mean that," he replied. "You're deliberately supressing how you feel about this and if we go ahead with the adoption idea and you don't make peace with your thoughts, it'll come back so hard one day you won't know what to do with it."

"You're talking crap," said Happy, pushing his arms away from her. "I thought you'd support me on this, not try to guilt trip me over it."

"I'm sorry, but I need to be sure you're making the right decision," replied Toby. "I'm not trying to make you feel guilty. You already feel guilty, that's why you were out there murdering onions."

"I don't feel guilty," she said, getting to her feet defiantly. "I want to adopt. End of. If you don't like it then…" she trailed off, leaving an empty threat.

"Sit down," he said gently. "Come on, we don't have to fight about this, please," he begged.

Happy didn't move. She wanted to storm off, but she couldn't, not when she knew he was right. She didn't know what she wanted and that wasn't a feeling she was used to. Somewhat reluctantly she slumped back down on the sofa. "I… I want…" she began, but a wave of emotion washed over her and she couldn't speak.

Instantly she was back in Toby's comforting arms. "It's OK, I'm here," he said. "You don't have to go through this alone."

"I just want to…" she sniffed. "I want to be a mom, I want to be the mom she… she never got to be."

"I know," he said and he kissed her tear-streaked face. "I know and you will be. And I promise we can look at adoption, we can take one of those kids and give them a great childhood. A crazy childhood, maybe, but a better one than they would have otherwise." He took Happy's face in his hands. "A better childhood than you had."

"Thank you," she whispered, leaning in to kiss him tenderly. "But, now… now I don't know what to do. This is what I was trying to figure out in the kitchen. You're right, I do still want a baby. I don't know why I ever thought I could push those feelings away."

"One, I'm always right," he said, with a grin. "Two, because you thought if you decided to adopt, then…" he paused for a second. This was going to hurt, but it had to be done. "Then you would never have to worry about getting pregnant again."

Happy's face crumpled at his words. It wasn't like her to break down completely, but she didn't know what else to do. "Why?" she wailed and he pulled her close again. "Why hasn't it happened yet? It… it should have happened by now, I want… I want this so badly."

"Oh sweetheart, so do I," replied Toby, holding her tightly. "And I hate waiting for it as much as you do, but it's still early days. We're just gonna keep on trying until it works," he continued with determination. "And it will, I just know it will. Then once we've declared Operation Baby Quintis a complete success, we can move onto Operation Adopt-A-Quintis."

Happy looked up at him and smiled through her tears. "We're not calling it that," she insisted. Truth was she didn't care what he called it, as long as they had each other and they could go on this journey together. "I love you," she said and they kissed passionately.

It felt like the kiss lasted forever, for those few minutes she was completely lost in him. Lost in the love he had for her, love that she never thought she could truly experience, yet here it was in her arms in the form of a gangly, smartass, shrink.

Eventually they had to come up for air. "How's the hand?" Toby asked, noticing her wince as she pulled away from him.

"Kinda throbbing," she replied, looking at her bandaged palm. She was definitely never going to try cooking again, she decided.

"Not the only thing around here that's throbbing," Toby noted with a wink and Happy slapped him on the arm. "We should, er, we should really do something about that right now," he added, with a hint of desperation in his voice.

"What about dinner?" asked Happy. "We were going to order in." She snuggled closely into him, the last thing on her mind at that moment was food.

"We can eat later," replied Toby, pressing his body against hers and running his hand through her hair. "You have a nasty injury and you're in pain so for now I prescribe bed rest. Well… bed, anyway."

"Are you taking advantage of your position, Doctor Curtis?" asked Happy, playfully.

"You bet I am," he responded, getting to his feet and pulling her up by her good hand. "You should probably report me to the AMA."

THE END.


End file.
